


Comforter

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Affection, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, No Spoilers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Self Confidence Issues, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Trust, Trust Issues, Zombie Apocalypse, post apocalyptic dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon knows what to expect when he and Janine get together. Except maybe tonight he doesn't know at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comforter

The bedroom door was slightly ajar when Simon reached the upstairs landing. Dim light spilled out. He pushed it open further and leaned against the doorjamb, staring into Janine’s bedroom. He’d seen her in so many ways since they’d begun this… whatever it was. He’d seen her naked, half naked, shadowed curves beneath him in the darkness, strong hands against his wrists by the light of a solar lamp. They were memories that he hoarded jealously, and he’d believed that he’d seen every step between clothes and nude.

But he’d never seen her like this, wearing thick blue fleece pyjamas with little white spots all over them. A thick book, some military biography no doubt, was resting against her knees as she read, and her hair was loose of the neat ponytail that she wore it in during the day. It fell down to her shoulders, straggly at the ends where it could use a cut, but who didn’t look like they could use a haircut these days?

 

Simon ran a hand over his chin and the scruff growing there, before clearing his throat. “You look ready to sleep. Should I go?”

Janine placed a bookmark between the pages and closed the book, setting it aside before she looked at him. “Simon. No, Stay.”

He grinned and stepped into the room, nudging the door closed with his foot. He immediately began to undress, pulling off his sweater and t-shirt, followed by his jogging pants and… she wasn’t watching. It wasn’t the most elaborate show; too cold for a long, drawn out display, but she normally at least looked at him!

He walked over to the bed, bumping his knees against it. Janine looked up from her book again and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You sure you want me here?” he asked, head cocked slightly to one side.

“I wouldn’t have said if I didn’t,” she said primly. “Now… Simon you look freezing. Why are you standing there mostly naked?”

Simon just stared for a moment, and then folded his arms over his chest. “I thought- I’m here, in your bedroom, that usually means you want me to get naked. It is not an unreasonable assumption based on past experience.”

“Oh for…” She shook her head and pulled back the duvet. “Get into bed, Simon.” Her tone brooked no argument, and it _was_ bloody cold, even with thick curtains, and rugs on the floor. He climbed into bed next to her, immediately leaning over to nuzzle at her throat and slide one hand down over the swell of her breasts. Which was more difficult when she was wearing really thick pyjamas.

She pushed his hand firmly away. “Not tonight.”

“Oh, come on Jenny,” Simon said, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. She sighed but leaned into it, reciprocating. She cupped Simon’s face with both of her hands, then slid one around to rest at the nape of his neck. She wasn’t angry with him then, which just left him more confused.

He smiled lazily, and licked his lips. He pushed up the hem of the pyjama top and- She caught his wrist, pulling it away. “I’m not interested, Simon. Not tonight.”

Simon hesitated then rolled back onto the other side of the bed. “Well, what am here for if you don’t want to fuck?”

The book closed with a snap. Janine rolled onto her side, fixing Simon with a piercing look. “Is my company really so terrible?”

“No but-”

“Do you so hate the idea of sleeping in a real bed for a night?”

“No.”

“Then I fail to see what the problem is. If you want to leave, you are, of course, most welcome.”

“No I just-” He swallowed around his words, not sure which of them were right. She could be damn prickly when she wanted to be, his Jenny. “I’m not sure what you want.”

It was Janine’s turn to look surprised, but the expression lasted only a second or two before she reached out to touch his face, stroking the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “To share a bed with someone,” she said finally. “Is that so strange?”

He didn’t have a good answer for that, but he turned his head so that he could brush his lips against her fingers lightly. “Maybe it is,” he replied. To her credit, she didn’t pull away immediately, or kick him out, even if he could feel her go tense beside him. “I thought we said, it’s just sex. We need it, why not help each other out.”

They had said that, back at the start when they’d been rebuilding Abel and both of them were shaken and starving for company. It hadn’t felt like that for a while though; tonight was just the most obvious symptom.

“I thought-” Janine began, and then shook her head. “I won’t hold it against you if that is all you want. I just thought… I- I am _fond_ of you, Simon.” He sucked in a breath, eyes widening. Janine was not fond of anyone as far as he could tell, or not that she admitted out loud. His silence must have gone on too long because she continued, her words coming out in a rush. “Of course if you do not feel the same, that is fine. We can still continue our arrangement and you might as well head back to your quarters now and I-”

Simon kissed her, her surprise dragging out a startled squeak. She pushed against his chest, but nowhere near as hard as she could if she really wanted him to stop, and slowly her fingers curled against his stomach, then slipped to his hips to hold him still.

He pulled away, his lips tinged with the taste of copper while hers were swollen and parted. Simon brushed his knuckles against her cheek, giving her a searching look. “So you want to- to just sleep. Together. And actually sleep. Not other stuff.”

If Janine had been any other woman he was sure that she would have rolled her eyes. Instead she nodded sharply. “Yes Simon. That is what I want.”

He hesitated, uncertainty clouding his mind for a moment. What they had was simple, easy, or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. It had always been easier that way, even before the apocalypse. Meet up a few nights a week, shag, maybe wake up together, maybe not. Rinse. Repeat.

“It isn’t an order, Simon,” Janine said, her voice softer than he was used to hearing.

“No, no, I know that,” he said, but the bravado of his words didn’t reach his smile. “I wasn’t expecting it. Uh- that sounds bad doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps a little,” Janine replied, but she didn’t look upset. She moved away to lie on her own side of the bed, picking up her book again. The message was obvious: his choice.

It wasn’t a choice, not in the end. He slipped beneath the covers, so soft after the scratch blanket and sleeping bag combo he got in the barracks, the bed like a cloud or a marshmallow, and he took a moment to let it settle beneath him, cradling his body.

Finding a position to lie in was an unexpectedly difficult task. He was too wound up to sleep straight away, and lying there on his back left him feeling vulnerable, exposed somehow. Curling on his side made his arms cramp and lie awkwardly next to him. He tried lying face down but that left him sprawling out until a brief battle broke out between his legs and Janine’s which he promptly lost.

“Stop fidgeting, Simon!” was the exasperated warning.

“Can’t help it,” Simon said, rolling over as if that would help. It left him pressed tightly against Janine’s side, his head close to her hip because of the way that she was sitting. He thought about tugging her pyjama bottoms down with his teeth, revealing those lovely curves and strong muscles.

He nudged a bit closer. Janine cleared her throat, but didn’t move. Simon did, edging up until he could press his face against her hip, feeling the jut of bone against his cheek, the warmth, the scent of grease and oil and coarse soap.

“Comfortable?” Janine asked, and her hand fell to his head, fingers curling into his hair. It felt good.

“I think I’ll survive,” he said, the words mumbled against the thin sliver of skin where her top had ridden up.

“Good,” Janine replied, and the hand in his hair began to stroke, a soothing motion. Less familiar than having it pulled or tugged or used as a handle when they fucked, but nice in its own way.

He was mostly asleep, but he felt how the bed shifted when Janine gave up reading and settled down for the night He heard the click of the solar lamp and felt the room plunge into darkness. She fitted next to him. A bit awkward, a fight over knees and elbows, but she curled around him like she was meant to be there.

When he woke up the next morning, she still was.


End file.
